The silence stretched between them, heavy and painful.
Finally, Samuel said:
"If you’re going to leave anyway... at least tell the truth. Tell who you really are. Where you’re really from. Why you’re really leaving."
Heena considered this request.
She owed him that much, at least.
Heena looked at him coldly. There was no flicker of hesitation, no softening of the jaw. "I don’t think that is necessary, my lord."
Hearing that title again—that wall of ice she had thrown up between them—Samuel slumped. Then, a sound started in his chest. It was a laugh, but it was hollow, a dry and humourless sound that echoed off the expensive porcelain and the heavy drapes. He looked at her, his eyes bright with a jagged, painful sort of mirth.
"You are too cruel," he said, shaking his head. "Really, you are. We are at least husband and wife. People say one day as husband and wife is a hundred days of living together. That the bond is supposed to be thicker than this."
He was grasping at straws, using old sayings to try and bridge a gap that she had already decided was an abyss. He wanted her to feel the weight of the ti they had spent in the trenches together, the shared als, the quiet nights where he thought they were building sothing.
Heena looked at him, her expression unchanged by his desperation.
"Well," she said, her voice like the strike of a bell, "your idiom was wrong, but..." She looked down at her hands, then back at him. "I know."
Samuel looked deep into Heena’s eyes, searching for even the slightest crack in her resolve—a flicker of doubt, hesitation, or guilt—but all he found was that sa cold firmness staring back at him. It was like iron. Like a door that had already been shut long ago.
For several long seconds, neither of them moved. The silence was heavy enough to suffocate. Samuel’s jaw tightened, the muscles in his face twitching as though he was physically restraining himself from saying sothing reckless.
Then, suddenly, the tension snapped.
Samuel leaned back heavily in his chair and let out a long, exhausted sigh. "Fine."
Heena blinked. For a brief second, she genuinely thought she had misheard him. "...Excuse ?" Her brows furrowed instantly. She knew this man far too well; Samuel was obsessive, territorial, and possessive. And now he was agreeing? Just like that?
"I said okay. Fine," Samuel repeated flatly.
Heena stared at him. No shouting, no threats, not even that dangerously soft tone he used when planning sothing terrible. It made the situation even worse. She leaned forward, narrowing her eyes. "Agreeing so easily?"
Samuel gave a small shrug. "Well, it’s not like if I stop you, you’ll actually stop. You already made up your mind, haven’t you... ’’wife’’?"
Heena hesitated. "Well... yes. But still." She was in shock. She had ntally prepared for locked doors or being chained to the bed. And now he was acting like a reasonable human being? Absolutely suspicious.
Samuel looked at her and smiled faintly, almost sadly. "What kind of person do you think I am, wise?"
Heena’s expression flattened. They both knew the answer: a deeply unstable one. Still, she wasn’t the type to waste an opportunity. If fate opened a door, she would walk through it while carrying the furniture.
Heena began to pack. Unlike heroines who walk away empty-handed, she intended to collect compensation for emotional damage. She had been beaten, insulted, and nearly killed; taking valuables wasn’t theft, it was an overdue salary. Jewelry, expensive robes, dicines, and hidden coin stashes all went into her bags.
The servants watched with complicated emotions, but nobody dared stop her because Samuel had given no orders. That was exactly what made Heena uneasy.
Six days passed. Samuel had completely vanished. No sudden appearances, no lurking outside her room like a ghost with attachnt issues. It was horrifying.
[Are you sure there isn’t anything wrong, ’’Host’’?] the System asked. [You do not look good.]
"Sothing is definitely wrong," Heena muttered, fingers tightening around a silk robe. "It has been six whole days since I last saw that damn man."
[...And?] the System asked.
"And you think that’s normal?" Heena snapped. "That dog wouldn’t even let walk around the estate alone, and now he’s letting leave peacefully? Accepted my ass."
The departure day arrived. Still no Samuel. The carriage gates opened, and by the ti the estate disappeared, even the System relaxed. [See? I told you, ’’Host’’. You were worried for nothing.]
Heena remained stretched against the cushions, arms crossed. "No. My intuition is rarely wrong."
As the hours passed, she began to doubt herself. Maybe he truly let her go. She picked up a pastry from the tray and bit into it. Her entire face twisted violently. An aggressive heat exploded across her tongue.
"Damn it, Samuel!" she hissed instinctively. "Who puts this much chili into cooking?!"
"You don’t like spicy food."
The voice ca lazily from the shadows beside her. Calm. Smooth.
"See? That alone proves you never pay proper attention to your husband."
Everything froze. The carriage, the air, even the System went silent. Heena’s head turned slowly toward the dark corner of the carriage. There, sitting comfortably with one leg crossed over the other and a book against his knee, was Samuel.
He was watching her with terrifying calmness—not angry, just settled. Like a predator that didn’t need to chase because the prey was already caught.
[...Host?] the System didn’t even dare speak.
Heena stared in absolute disbelief. "...What the fuck."
Samuel tilted his head. "That’s rude. I waited quietly for almost three hours."
"THREE HOURS?!"
"Yes. You looked stressed, ’’wife’’. I didn’t want to interrupt."
Heena looked toward the door. Samuel noticed instantly. "You can try jumping out, but we’re moving downhill. I’d rather not collect your corpse."
Heena stared at him like he was a demon. "...You insane bastard."
Samuel looked thoughtful. "Perhaps." He smiled again—softly, beautifully, and terrifyingly. "But you already knew that before marrying , ’’wife’’."
Heena took a long, deep breath, forcing her heart to slow its frantic hamring. She counted to sixty, then sixty again, waiting two full minutes until she was certain she wouldn’t scream. She looked at him, her voice trembling with restrained fury.
"Why the hell are you here?"
Samuel looked genuinely shocked, his eyes widening with feigned innocence. "Well, ’’wife’’, we aren’t divorced yet."
Heena’s eyes flashed. "We haven’t even filed for a legal marriage! We have no official papers! So why the heck are you here?"
Samuel didn’t flinch. Instead, he leaned forward, the faint light of the carriage catching the sharp edge of his smile. "I am a truly devoted husband. I want to make sure that my ’’wife’’ stays happy and safe. So, of course, I will follow wherever you go. It is my duty."
Heena stared at him, her jaw dropping. There was an expression of utter, pure disbelief in her eyes. She looked at him as if he had suddenly sprouted a second head.
"Have you gone crazy or what?" she choked out.
Samuel just watched her, his expression settled and serene, as if following soone into a moving carriage after faking a six-day disappearance was the most natural thing in the world.
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